Chapter 172: Undercover

Harry felt as if he had suddenly gained some insight, but it was immediately interrupted by Dumbledore's next words.

"This can be considered later, but the urgent matter is that I fear Voldemort is using this connection to spy on you," Dumbledore said.

"But you just said Voldemort's awareness of this bond is already very weak," Harry said, his relief vanishing as tension returned.

"Very weak, but not nonexistent," Dumbledore carefully replied. "Voldemort likely doesn't yet know about this link, or lacks the ability to monitor you in return—but he may discover it someday. For safety's sake, you should begin learning Occlumency now."

"Occlumency? Is that a spell to prevent others from spying on your mind?" Harry asked.

"Precisely. Professor Snape is highly skilled in it. I'll have him teach you after term begins," Dumbledore yawned. "Now, let this old man rest in the guest room for a while—I barely slept after receiving your message yesterday."

Harry bid Dumbledore farewell with a mixture of respect and apology, then asked Carson to show him to the best guest room.

After Dumbledore left, Harry finally remembered the insight he'd nearly grasped—the portrait Neville had sent. If he used that spell (Sirius called it the Stasis Charm) to trap Voldemort inside, he might safely imprison him.

Yet, as Dumbledore said, many things require careful planning; turning a viable idea into a solid plan takes time and effort.

That noon, Harry hadn't felt particularly sleepy, but after a moment's hesitation, he lay down. Using his nap time to spy on Voldemort was undoubtedly an advantage—gathering fragmented information was better than knowing nothing, and he felt he needed to make full use of it.

In his dream, Harry opened his eyes again. The familiar long table appeared before him, but this time few sat around it—besides the Dark Lady, perhaps only the man codenamed "Bat."

When he removed his hood, Harry's heart surged with shock—it was Severus Snape.

"Tell me, Snape, what is Dumbledore's plan?" Voldemort said coldly.

"His plan is directed against you," Snape said naturally. "More precisely, Dumbledore is merely cooperating with the Ministry. The Doctors intend to set a trap during the Triwizard Tournament to lure you into action."

"I already killed every single Auror," Voldemort growled. "Where did these Doctors come from?"

"According to my investigation, they're from the Department of Mysteries," Snape betrayed the Ministry's secrets without hesitation. "After Barty Crouch Sr. took over, he immediately launched the Doctor Project. The original eight Silence-Hunters became Doctors One through Eight. He also secretly recruited several Aurors, convincing them to join. Currently, there are four more official Doctors—twelve in total."

"What is Barty's goal?" Voldemort asked, as if posing a rhetorical question. "To defeat the Dark Lord and clear his son's name, is that it?"

"But his son should be dead," Snape frowned.

"Fool! Everyone in Azkaban knows the woman who died in the cell!" the Dark Lady shrieked. "You've never even been inside—you can't prove your loyalty!"

"Quiet, Bellatrix. This is part of my plan," Voldemort said softly. "I need someone close to Dumbledore to relay information. We've always gotten along well, haven't we, Severus?"

"Indeed, my Lord," Snape's face had turned pale.

"I told you I spared Lily's life—but she was too stubborn, insisting on using that sacrifice spell," Voldemort's voice was hypnotic; Harry even felt genuine regret in it. "I planned perfectly: kill Dumbledore's dog, eliminate the brat, and Lily—though heartbroken—could be comforted, won over. She would have been yours."

Snape pressed his lips tightly shut, saying nothing.

"Unfortunately, at this point, we must change strategy," Voldemort said cunningly. "I will ensure Harry's safety—no one may harm him. But Dumbledore, this hypocrite, must die. He excels at using the lie of 'love' to trick others into dying for him…"

"Dumbledore's death is inevitable," Snape said. "He's been marked by the Dark Lord's Death Warrant. He has only three years left to live."

Harry was confused again. Dumbledore had told him he was dying because of the curse on the Horcrux.

"Hmph. An interfering old fool," Voldemort grumbled. "But three years is too long. I'll kill him myself this year. The Doctors prepared a trap for me—perfect. I'll use it to kill Dumbledore openly. I have that confidence."

"No wonder you're our Master," the Dark Lady said with reverence.

"Then I wish you success, Master," Snape said flatly.

"Severus," Voldemort said softly. "The assault on Hogwarts will proceed in parallel. You should demonstrate some capability. Bellatrix will try to kill McGonagall in the chaos—but even if she fails, the Headmaster's position will be yours eventually."

"I need you to hold Hogwarts. As for the Ministry, I've had a good chat with Hark," Voldemort painted a tempting future. "Then Harry can run wild—I won't care. All I want is to return to Hogwarts and teach Dark Arts."

Snape's expression grew visibly excited: "The Headmaster's chair belongs to you alone."

"Relax, relax. Maybe I won't teach at all? Maybe I'll publish a journal called 'Advanced Dark Arts'? Maybe I'll retire somewhere quiet?" Voldemort's tone was light. "You'll teach Delphini for me. Though I am immortal, I still grow bored. She will become the next Dark Lord—and you will be the capable lieutenant I leave for her."

"Go now. Figure out the details of the plan. I need an opportunity to kill Dumbledore directly without harming Harry. You must find a way."

"As you command," Snape bowed deeply, then left.

"Why?" the Dark Lady—Harry now knew her name was Bellatrix—asked sharply. "Snape isn't worth this much trust!"

"A spy is essential," Voldemort said slowly. "And Dumbledore is a master of Legilimency. Finding a spy who can perform Occlumency isn't easy. I can't read Snape's true thoughts, so I must offer him enough to secure his loyalty."

"Besides, once Dumbledore dies, who becomes Headmaster or Minister rests entirely in my hands. Snape is a talent—what's a little favor to give him?" Voldemort reached out and stroked Bellatrix's cheek, confirming to Harry their affair. "Don't fret over petty power. This world will kneel at my feet."

"But what about Harry?" Bellatrix asked, uneasy. "That shameless little brat will only cause you trouble."

"I tolerate him as a father tolerates a mischievous child," Voldemort said with pride. "He can do anything he wants. He can live normally—no one will trouble him. He can try to resist me—but no one will follow him. If he serves me, I'll even share this world with him."

Bellatrix's expression flickered uncertainly; she seemed to suspect something, but dared not ask.

The dream ended. When Harry woke, his scar still ached slightly—but not painfully. He couldn't tell if it was because this time was unusual, or if he was growing slightly accustomed to it.

But one thing was certain: Voldemort had broken his usual cold brutality, unexpectedly adopting a conciliatory tone. He understood human nature, using seduction and persuasion to lure Snape into his service. And just as Dumbledore nurtured Harry, he was nurturing a successor named Delphini—crucial intelligence, perhaps explaining his softened demeanor today.

Harry carefully recorded every detail in his journal, then rushed to tell Dumbledore the moment he arrived for afternoon tea.

"Don't worry about Snape, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "What Voldemort plans to give him, I will give him too. So tell me—would he rather be a true Headmaster, or a puppet Headmaster under Voldemort?"

"I thought your successor would be McGonagall," Harry said, embarrassed.

"Your successor will always be you," Dumbledore said, his gaze piercing through his spectacles. "Snape will also prefer a world where Harry Potter lives happily."

"Oh," Harry scratched his head awkwardly, then remembered something else. "But Snape revealed nearly all our plans. The Doctor Project is completely exposed to Voldemort."

"Precisely," Dumbledore stroked his beard. "If Voldemort never intended to kill you, perhaps our plan must change. The bait to lure Voldemort out might need to become me."

"That's too dangerous! You're playing your cards face-up!" Harry exclaimed. "You're poisoned, Voldemort is healthy, and he bought a powerful wand from abroad."

"Don't worry, Harry," Dumbledore smiled warmly. "I'm more confident than you imagine."